Yes – my parents are hilarious and awesome. This much is undeniable.
But before you go all, omigodiwantyourdrunkcrazyparents, let’s get the fact out there that they have a tendency to drop bombs on me when I least expect it. This is usually because they think it’s funny when I am 32 kinds of disheveled for no particular reason. I expect unsettling your offspring is one of the major revenge perks of having to clean up their various bodily excretions and pay for everything for 18+ years.
Maybe that’s why I yank on Calvin and Theo’s snoots every now and then.
Yes – I know it’s ‘snouts’ but snoots is so much more fun to say.
SNOOT.
Ahem. So bombs. These bombs range from things like “GONE ON FANCY B&B TRIP! WON’T MISS YOU! BACK NEXT WEEK! BAI!” to “HEY DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU’RE MARRIED NOW? ISN’T THAT FUNNY! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!” to the most recent one, “WE OUTED YOU TO YOUR GRANDFATHER THIS WEEKEND. WELL…SEE YA!”
And then I usually go right into the blank stare, to the frantic “FIX THIS!” look to Jason, to drinking heavily and rocking back and forth by myself.
Yes. They told me over nachos that my 81-year-old, hermitesque grandfather, who lives in a town of about eight, now knows that I prefer the company of men in bed and the musical stylings of anyone who has ever worn a catsuit and/or body glitter.
And what did my grandfather say?
“I figured.”
Now hoooooooold on just a wedgie-pickin’ minute here. I figured? I FIGURED?? That man is EIGHTY-FREAKING-ONE. He lives on a hill overlooking the TWO buildings in his ‘town’ – a church and a church hall. It’s not like he tivos Will & Grace and downloads techo remixes of Lady Gaga.
I figured??
It’s not like when we visit I’m all…Hey G-pop. I met the hottest dude with the biggest bulge the other day. P.S. I can fit a whole beer bottle in my mouth – wanna see?
I’m much more like…Of course I would LOVE to go to church, repent sins, wait until I marry a good Catholic girl and even then still feel guilty about consummating our marriage.
I mean sure, the newf came up for the weekend with us to celebrate his 80th but we had such a foolproof cover story: he was just a guy that I happened to share a home and miniature puppies with without any defined affiliation one way or another.
WHAT THE HELL SCREAMS GAY ABOUT THAT?
I call bullshit, G-diddy. Someone clearly tipped you off. Or maybe the newf broke character and got too homo…
Now if you excuse me, I have a Kelly Clarkson vs. Beyoncé mash-up stuck in my head so I’m going to put on my tight jeans and dance it out.
You figured? Not likely.